


Of Rivers and Stones

by royalruse



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Possible Romance, Season 1, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:42:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalruse/pseuds/royalruse
Summary: Instead of IA sending Mia Sumner to spy on Intelligence, Vice transfers over Amy Brooks, a detective with a troubled work history. Maybe Hank Voight can relate.
Relationships: Hank Voight & Original Female Character(s), Hank Voight/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Of Rivers and Stones

Detective Amy Brooks is not superstitious. She cares little for walking under ladders, using umbrellas indoors, or crossing paths with a black cat. While maybe using an umbrella indoors is odd, and to each their own, she doesn't fear the consequences of doing so outside of receiving some weird looks.

However, that being said, Amy is convinced she is bad luck.

A person could be fine for years before meeting her—successful, happy, respected—but after two days partnered with her, he could be out of a job and facing legal charges.

She may have considered it a fluke if it only happened once, a coincidence if it happened twice, but three times is a pattern. Her first partner ended up shot; her second, facing charges for soliciting a minor; and the most recent transferred out of the division after suffering three broken bones and an injury to the spine.

Even after the string of bad events, it wasn't until her co-worker and stand-in partner from her division—Micheal Aldman—was pushed from a building when pursuing a fugitive did she finally crack. She had gone through three partners in nine weeks. People started whispering: after the _incident,_ she became a liability; she can't handle the pressure; how many more partners before they finally decide to _cut her?_

Her sergeant did his best to alleviate the rumors and explained to her that none of those cases were her fault: Todd was _murdered,_ Dallas was a _pedophile_ , Keen _fell_ off his roof while re-tiling, and Aldman would be _fine._ The damage was done, however. She refused to take on another partner, and her co-workers couldn't say they weren't relieved when she was transferred out. They were curious who could handle her string of bad karma, though.

Her sergeant sighed, glancing over her file. She was a hell of a detective before the tragedy. After, she was on edge and took other's failures as her own. He hoped what she needed was a change of scenery. And therapy probably wouldn't hurt. 

Dialing a number, the sergeant called his commander and pitched him an idea. 

* * *

Amy walked into the station in the 21st division with a small sigh. Looking at the paper with her name and the words "transferred to the Intelligence Unit" made her slightly anxious. From the rumors she has heard about Intelligence, she knew this position was likely to be temporary and, quite honestly, she wanted to be done with it. But with her work ethic, she knew she wouldn't be able to leave behind anything she was assigned to—one of her greatest strengths and follies. 

Stopping at the front desk, she let the appropriate paperwork flutter from her fingers onto the counter. Looking up, she was met with an older police woman she quickly identified as a sergeant. The sergeant promptly ignored her, continuing her filing and what-not. 

Amy couldn't say she minded much. Leaning against the counter, she stared at the patrolmen walking and busying about, reminiscing. In her first years as a patrolman, she was headstrong, stubborn, and the most stringent officer in her precinct. She pissed off quite a few detectives and superiors in those years. That was probably the reason it took a few years before they considered moving her up, though when they did notice her, she was quickly pushed up the ranks. 

Her advancement was quicker than most detectives. 

Looking back, she wondered if that was a mistake. 

"Can I help you?" an uninterested voice interrupted her wry musing. 

Turning to look at the desk sergeant, she nodded. "Transfer Detective Amy Brooks reporting to Intelligence."

The sergeant frowned but took a look at her paperwork and ID. Seeing nothing out of place, she nodded. "Up those stairs and to the right. I'll let you in today, but tomorrow you'll need an ID."

"Yes, sergeant." She headed up the stairs, missing the contemplative look she received from the desk. 

Entering the second floor was familiar as she heard multiple voices overlapping. The set-up was similar, she noted (and decided it was probably because of the Chicago budget & efficiency): multiple desks, a role-out board, and a comfortable air she was sure she was going to disrupt.

Having walked in unnoticed, she decided to hang back near the wall as they discussed a case. Watching the flow was calming as they talking about an illegal, gambling den connected to the triad she was sure she had to track down once or twice in Vice. These gambling dens weren't always as simple or easy to catch and disband as others thought they were, and many were tied to different gangs and organization, usually meaning they could be volatile and get violent fast. 

In this instance, she hoped not for their sake. 

It was then she was noticed by the group, and the talking broke.

A man she recognized as Sergeant Voight came up to her. "Can I help you?" he asked, unknowingly echoing a no-nonsense desk sergeant. 

She figured the rumored ill-tempered man wasn't informed about her transfer or she'd probably be barred from entering the station entirely, so she replied rather nonchalantly. "Detective Amy Brooks—I've been assigned to this unit for the time being."

There were some incredulous and less than impressed looks, and Sergeant Voight raised his brows. "The hell you have—"

She sighed and just handed him the paperwork. It'd be faster than explaining. 

"And what's this?" Or not. He did not seem in a happy or patient mood. 

"My transfer papers from Commander Perry in the 31st division." She didn't break eye-contact as he stared at her before he finally glanced at her papers. 

"You're from Vice?" There was some interest in his voice, but she could hear he was not convinced of her or her papers. 

"Yes, sir."

After a few moments of silence, Sergeant Voight turned to his team and raised the papers slightly. "Everybody welcome Detective—"

"Brooks."

"She will be temporarily joining Intelligence." 

The looks were not welcoming, but she did not expect them to be. Frankly, she was surprised she wasn't thrown out of the room first and questioned later. 

Sergeant Voight gestured to the images on the board. "You know them?"

She hazarded she hasn't been sent away to the dark corners of the filing room yet because of her background in Chinese gambling dens. "Yes, sir. We've had to stop their operations more than once."

When she didn't say more, he nodded and glanced to one of their computers. "Pull up and find everything you know on these guys. Everything."

While she knew she was being put on the sidelines purposefully, she couldn't help but be entirely relived. After the mistrusting and uneasy looks she got used to receiving in Vice, their suspicion was of a refreshing different kind, as sad as it was to say. "Yes, Sergeant."

With one more nod, he left to his office. She watched as he grabbed his office phone and dialed; she may have an inkling as to where that call was headed. The Intelligence Unit observed her covertly as she looked at one of the desks before dropping her papers onto an empty desk near the wall. 

While she was glad she wasn't going out in the field, the number of files on these guys weren't a small amount. She was sure she had her work cut out for her. 

**Author's Note:**

> More quarantine writings.


End file.
